“Oh, young man,” said she, coughing, and looking at Ivan, “that whirlwind has frightened me too, so that I sit in this cabin a hundred and twenty years, and I go out nowhere! Maybe he would fly up and sweep me away. That’s not a whirlwind, but the Savage Serpent.”
“How could one go to him?” asked Ivan.
“What art thou thinking of, my world? The serpent will swallow thee.”
“Maybe he will not swallow me.”
“See to it, champion, or thou wilt not save thy head. But shouldst thou come back, give me thy word to bring from the serpent’s castle water with which, if a man sprinkles himself, he will grow young,” said she, moving her teeth beyond measure.
“I will get it, grandmother, I give thee my word.”
“I believe thee, on conscience! Go straight to where the sun sets. In one year thou wilt reach the bald mountain there; ask for the road to the serpent’s kingdom.”
“God save thee, grandmother!”
“There is no reason for thanks, father.”
Well, Ivan Goroh went to the land where the sun sets. A story is soon told, but a deed’s not soon done. He passed three kingdoms, and went to the serpent’s land; before the gates of the town he saw a beggar,—a lame, blind old man with a crutch,—and giving him charity, he asked if the young Tsarevna Vassilissa Golden Tress was in that town.